


Inevitable

by galaxybcund



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Forbidden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-16 00:47:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29692464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxybcund/pseuds/galaxybcund
Summary: There'd been no greater honor, being able to join the ranks of an agency so esteemed but so unknown that they're merely known for their alcohol, not their work. You'd trained relentlessly to get here, and now that you were, every moment is fresh and exciting. Until you realize you've got to earn the trust of your superiors. Which meant you were merely a sidekick to most of the agents in the agency until you could prove yourself. It pissed you off, and your 'advisor' had a bad habit of ensuring he could get the work done. Among other things.
Relationships: Jack | Whiskey (Kingsman)/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	1. A Toast to New Beginnings

Your assignment left you resenting not suggesting some form of pairing. You'd rather be stuck behind a desk learning endless code with Ginger or even listening to the stupidity that came out of Tequila's mouth every now and then. Instead, Champagne told you that you had some things you could learn from Whiskey instead. His arrogance reeked even stronger than the scent of cigarettes and cigars that lingered in a endless cloud of smoke around him. So, you'd taken the assignment... rather reluctantly. You'd found yourself on the shores of Tennessee wholing up in a small condo in a complex not too far from the airport. You knew the mission by heart, tracking the head behind the influx of Nancom servers and routers in businesses and houses across the US. They'd been promoted as the fastest internet, the most secure servers, not even the government could get into. They might have difficulty, but Stateman had it's ways, and they'd found the manufactures in Nashville, leaving the two of you to investigate. 

You toss your bag into the one room of the condo, seeing the other bedroom that was connected through a joint bathroom. You groan falling on to the bed with a roll of your neck. Economy class flights were less than ideal, but you were meant to be inconspicuous and that'd been one of the easier ways to ensure less eyes on you. The low voice comes from the living area of the condo, a snicker leaving him. You get up, making your way to find Whiskey taking in the view of the condo before looking back at you. "Oh c'mon Angel, you don't think this ain't at least a bit of a blessin'? A view like this in a town like Nashville? I could get into some real trouble." He lets his hands fall to his pocket as he rocks onto his heels. 

"It's a balcony, in accommodations, on a mission. Not an excuse for you to go runnin' off and finding yourself getting too deep into someone else's business, Whiskey." You remind him, slowly pulling the heavy leather from your shoulders, leaving you in the tank top as you look about the living area. It's pretty standard for what most condos provided. Mass produced leather couches, a wood entertainment center on one wall, a breakfast nook between the living area that led to a dark cabinets kitchen, stainless steel appliances. Nothing seemed... Statesman about the place.. You can't help but feel a pang of disappointment in your mind. You expected more from an agency with the tech they had and the ability to hide weapons in plain sight. Jack moves from the windows to the entertainment center, opening up one of the doors to a small bar, stocked with plenty of Stateman's finest product. No surprise there. 

"Yeah, no need to preach off to me, darlin'. Been in this business far longer than you might think." He speaks over the clattering of glass as he pours out two drinks as your boots click against linoleum as you step out onto the balcony in the musty Tennessee air on the balcony, watching as lights go by in the dark of the coast. Your weight moves into the iron railing as you take in the view, pushing the end of your hat up a little higher to better see the view. Boots sound on the cement of the balcony, your head standing still as a hand nudges your arm. Eyes move to the glass being offered to you, moving to look at Whiskey's features as he takes a pre-emptive sip. Fingers push the glass softly towards him with the back of your hand. 

"Sorry, Whiskey. I'm more of a Tequila gal."


	2. Downtown Affairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Whiskey finally can get some recon and head out to the local bar, situated not too far from the Nancom factory - hoping to catch something from those who might've worked there. It's a lowkey kind of a night, filled with a few drinks, a few rounds of darts and billiards. When the two of the eventually start wrapping up for the night, you're about to head out when trouble walks in. When the dust settles, the two of you find yourself back at the condo to lick any wounds that might have been incited at the bar.

_The night is young._ You nearly rolled your eyes when this statement left your partner as he grabbed his coat. "Oh no, I'm not going anywhere lookin' like this." You warn him, pulling the hat from your head and showing the outrageous mess underneath. 

"Darlin'... make it quick." He sighs, falling into the leather couch that lined the living room walls. You give a nod and are quick to move to your bag. You'd not really bothered with much attention to your appearance when you traveled. Everyone was underdressed, sweats, shoes that were easy to take off, layers to peel on and off to adjust to temperature shifts as they moved from terminals to planes and taxis. You rapidly pull out the first item from your bag, your toiletries bag. You toss it on the olive bedding before moving to grab the flowing dress you knew if you didn't wear now - you'd not get any use out of it. The first night on an assignment was usually the most mild, less... risky, perhaps. So you're doing your best to do as Whiskey had asked, sliding the t-shirt off your torso and the floral print dress on. Tugging at the ankles of your leggings, you use your foot to hold down the one pant and pull your leg out of the other. Grabbing fresh socks you pull those on before moving to the bathroom. Your hair... Lord - it had to be the damn humidity. You do your best to settle it down, eventually just pulling it into some form of a braid before moving to your makeup. You get a good eye look going, some mascara and a bit of blush, the icing on the cake being a peachy pink gloss on your lips. You're finally content and grab your boots moving back to the living room and sitting down to slide them on. You give Whiskey a look before smirking. 

"Fast enough for you?" You offer, standing up once both of your boots are on. He's quick to look you up and down before shrugging. 

"You don't got a weapon on you, have you?" He asks, a knowing look flitting to you as he takes another sip from the glass before sighing. You turn and move back to your room, moving to the hidden compartment of your suitcase to grab a few things. You find the familiar pistol and slide it into the holster hidden away in your boots, snickering slightly. You'd named the weapon 'snake', a small play on 'snake in my boot'. You'd thought it was great - Ginger seemed to agree. The rest of the taskforce... not so much. Must've just been the two of you who thought it was amusing. Your hands find the small pocket of your jewelry, fishing out a gold bracelet that doubled as a pair of handcuffs, a few rings, some with prongs that made body punches sting a little more, and finally a dainty watch with the ability to record information, and send out an electric shock when needed. You're grabbing your Stateman glasses before heading back out, glasses hanging from the top hem of your dress. The sound of your boots makes your company look to you and furrow his eyebrows. "You change anything?" You let out a laugh before grabbing your jacket and your purse. 

"Let's roll, cowboy." 

~ ~ ~

Ginger had directed the two of you to this small hole in the wall called the Racoon Taphouse. It was unassuming, had a good deal of vehicles out front, which meant the possibility for intel. "What's the plan here, Whiskey?" You comment before the taller of the two of you shakes his head. 

"Champagne calls me Whiskey. Call me Jack." You give a nod before leaning in to your hip. 

"The question still bears weight." You offer, watching as Jack pulls a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket, putting one to his lips quickly before lighting it, a puff of smoke lingering in the air before his gaze looks to you. It was unfair, the man got to wear jeans and loose button ups and boots. You would sweat in what he had on. Despite that, the flowing dress that you wore was still creating a thin layer of sweat down your back - so maybe it's just the weather. 

"We're gonna go sit at the bar, 'splain we're new around here and looking for friends, for facts about the town," He pauses for a drag of the cigarette, "shit the locals oughta know." He reminds before taking a very long drag, dropping the cigarette to the gravel below him and stepping on it. You look at him with a frown. 

"You're gonna pick that up." You note, a hand moving to your hip. He's fumbling in his pocket for one of the many toothpicks he carries, one falling to his bite. 

"Yeah?" He asks as you move to the door of the bar. You pull on the handle with a nod. 

"Yeah, you are. Otherwise, I'm kicking your ass at darts." A snicker leaves your lips as you enter the bar once Jack's leant over to pick it up. He tosses it in a garbage can outside the building before following you in. You're standing looking for a spot when a hand comes to the small of your back. 

"First. You're shit at darts. Second. You do that again, I'll have to have a word with you." He moves away from your ear and heavens, there's a chill up your spine. You're reaching behind you to pull his hand from you before leading to two newly open bar stools. You can't place it, but you're not sure that Jack had meant that in terms of seniority. Not as your mentor, not as your partner on a case. A shake of your head and you're back at the bar, a Southern man pulling up a glass to the draft spouts and looking at the two of you. 

"What can I get the two of you?" He asks, the brunette beside you shifting to his pocket for his wallet for a twenty bill. "Two pints of Swing Bridge and whatever the lady wants." He pipes up, handing over the folded bill between two fingers. You're taken by surprise before looking over the draft list on the bar in front of you, not finding anything particularly... riveting. You look up and shrug. 

"Surprise me. I'll drink anything 'cept beer." He gives nod before heading off to get Jack his drinks. You spin on the stool, looking around the bar scene. It's pretty standard, a few high top tables, some booths lining the walls with photos of the community and retro labels and adverts for the beer brands that were popular in the area. There's a dartboard in the far off corner and a few pool tables. You give a nod before hearing glass on epoxied wood. You turn to look at the drink in front of you, a chuckle coming from your right. You look at him as he takes a sip of his drink. 

"That right there is a Whiskey Sour. You should've been more clear with your words." He offers, looking to take in the room as you just had. You pick up the glass, standing up and moving towards the dartboard but not before catching his eyes and taking a long, heavy drink of the liquor in your glass. You make a refreshed sound before looking at him tauntingly. 

"My momma said it best. It's an acquired taste." You turn on your heels to claim a position at the dart board. A group of men about your age greet you as you approach them. 

"Well howdy there. Ain't seen you around here, honey. You got a name?" One of them offers, leaning against the wall, a green beer bottle in hand. 

"You can call me Angel." You give a soft grin as you pick up your darts from the board. 

"Oh don't mind if I do, ma'am." Another retorts before you find yourself at the line, looking to the chart. 

"I'm new 'round here. Got any advice for me?" In a swift motion, you set your glass behind you on a high top table before looking to one of the older men, he's bearded, a little heavier in build. You're lining up your shot when he speaks. 

"Well, it's Nashville. I'm sure you know the rumors. Though, business is booming. A lot of people been headed to that new fangled factory not far from here." He starts as you throw your first dart, missing by a bit. Some soft chuckles come about before someone else pipes up. 

"How does a girl like you get the name Angel when you look like you're about to ruin everyone in here, sweet thing?" Your head turns to the voice and you're quick to respond. 

"What they call you?" You pause, a hand on your hip, most of the men looking to their counterpart. 

"My names Justin, they call me Lightning." He tips his hat to you and you give a smirk. 

"Is it because you only last 2 seconds?" A few men nearly snort their drinks out of their noses and start riling up their friend at your roast before you throw another dart - dead center. You take your drink and are quick to down the rest of it. "Smart men don't ask women like me silly questions." You comment before leaning onto the edge of a nearby table. "Now, one of you mentioned something about a factory. Why's everyone running like hogs to get there?" You're looking in Justin's direction, whose ego is far more bruised than it probably should be. 

"It's supposedly got some billionaire behind it. Promises of real high income numbers. Doesn't make sense since the product is being pushed with a subscription service. It's the subscription that's important not the stupid console." You give a slow nod and tip your hat to the group, dismissing yourself to get another drink. When you get back, Jack's got a blonde haired blue eyed young woman on his arm yammering on. He looks to you, almost pleadingly. You decide to waive down the bartender and whisper to him something before you lean back as he disappears a moment. Soon enough the bartender is setting down a drink in front of the blonde, commenting that _Lightning_ had sent over the drink. He points out the poor sucker that you'd roasted earlier, and it's not even two seconds later that she's taking her drink and running over to thank him for it. You watch as your glass is refilled as Jack lets out a sigh. 

"Thanks." He grumbles, getting up and picking his glass up to take it to the nearest pool table, inserting the money so the balls would fill the table. You follow him easily, grabbing a pool stick and watching as he arranges them into a triangle. "So what'ja learn?" He hums before taking a long sip from his glass. You then proceed to explain what the men had told you as you break the grouping and watch as one of the striped balls falls into the pocket. 

"The answer I didn't get, was what the hell was the subscription service?" You chirp as your partner leans over the table easily, lining up his shot. The two of you start to discuss theories for a while before you fall into the game, focusing more on play than the work that needed to be done. The two of you have been teasing each other back and forth for a bit before the two of you have a ball each and the 8 ball left. You've been drinking all the while - on Whiskey's tab not to mention - and you're far too giggly to be sober. Jack finds it far too entertaining how you have a slight wobble to you, hips bouncing with the country music playing in the background. Your head moves along as you line up your shot, your ass up in the air as you make sure to find the best shot. You're about to make your shot when your body lurches, an unexpected **smack** coming to your cheek. The fabric of your dress isn't great padding and you're quick to stand up and look to who it was, a hand caressing the sore spot. One of the men from earlier stares you down and gives a wink. 

"You're puttin' on a show, Angel." He snickers before your face grows beyond firm. Before you can even move to an instep to sock this jackass in the jaw, Jack's fist is already in the guy's beer belly. You step back slowly to get out of his way before arms wrap around you and you're moving to get out of the hold. You're flipping the man over your shoulders, a solid roundhouse kick to the side to keep him down before seeing Whiskey starting to take on the whole slew of men trying to defend their buddy. 

"It's about to get real, unladylike in here." You mutter, making sure the small pricks of your rings are engaged before stepping in to help Jack out. The two of you are nearly back to back taking on the group, at one point you feel a boot spur cut across your exposed thigh, a small cry leaving you before you focus on the task at hand. When everyone's out of commission, you're panting, in pain and ready to _bolt_ out the door. Whiskey looks over at you before grunting. 

"Guess the game's over." His hand moves to yours to lead you out the door, having paid your tab not even ten minutes prior to the break out of the fight. You're both scrambling into the truck, Jack taking a seat at the driver's wheel before kicking the engine on and pulling out of the lot easily. The two of you haven't even caught your breath before you're flying down empty streets. You look at your partner, him giving you a slight glimpse before he lets out a laugh. "We leave a mess wherever we go, don't we Angel?" He snickers and despite the pain in your leg you give a snicker. 

"Only when you're around Jack. Only when you're around." 

~~

When you get back to the condo, you're finally feeling a little better, knowing you might have a slight falter in your step in the morning. You're following Whiskey into the elevator, hearing him hum the same song you'd been dancing to earlier. He presses the floor level, looking around before seeing your skirt and reaching out to look at the new red mark on the fabric. "Are you bleeding?" He asks, his head popping up to look you in the eye. 

"I- I was, it was a spur I think. It's really nothing. The pain's like nothing now." You push his concerns off but his wild gaze doesn't let up. When the elevator doors open, he's exiting at a much slower pace than he'd started on. You're unsure why, but you think nothing of it. You watch the condo numbers pass by before you find your doors. The wood paneling is taking your interest until it's clear why Whiskey had slowed down. He didn't want you to overexert yourself while injured. The thought makes you smile a little, hearing the door open up and following him into the condo. He's disappeared from the hallway now leaving you to shut the door. You sigh, moving to kick off your boots, pulling the pistol from it's holster and taking the rounds from the weapon before tucking it into the safe in the closet. You can hear Jack in the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets in search of something. You round the corner to see him investigating the contents of a white box - only to see the red cross in the middle, causing you to roll your eyes. "Jack. I'm fine." He pauses his searching to look at you with a knowing look. You'd been wincing in pain most of the ride back. 

"Clearly, you're not. I don't know how you hid it that long." He scoffs, pulling out what he'd need before leaning onto his hands and into the counter. "You didn't whine the entire time back." He offers before a hand reaches up and performs a 'come here' motion. You follow the direction slowly coming to his side. 

"I guess I'm just good at being quiet." The statement leaves your lips before you can even think of the consequences. As Jack's snicker leaves his lips you let out an annoyed sigh. 

"Yeah? Tell me that again later and we'll test that theory shall we?" He's raising the fabric slightly to start caring for the wound. You're looking over his shoulder at the water view that the porch held only to be taken by surprise at hands on your hips, lifting you up and sitting you on the counter. The granite is cold on your skin, and somewhat comforting considering how remarkably sweaty you'd been between dancing and the small round of fighting the two of you got into. As Whiskey slowly starts to clean the cut on your leg, one hand holding up the hem of your skirt, not enough to see anything, with brown eyes trained on the task at hand. It takes about ten minutes for him to go over the area, treat it and properly bandage it. He wanted to ensure he didn't have to reach out to Ginger to enact any protocols. So he teased. You're half asleep now, the alcohol now leaving your body and leaving exhaustion in it's place. Jack stands upright now, moving to throw away the wrappings of the bandage thats now on your thigh. You're still sat on the counter, watching as he comes back to put the kit away. Once it's packed up, he looks at you with a gentle gaze. "You alright? You're awfully quiet." As he speaks, a hand rests on your uninjured thigh, making the goosebumps return. 

"I- Ugh, yeah. I'm good." You start, "I just... guess I'm tired." He grows quiet, eyes trained on you. You're taking the moment to really take in his features. The smile lines, the shape of a groomed beard, the way the shadows fall on his face... it finally registers that he's taken off his hat, revealing a full head of brown hair. The two of you seem to just be lost in one another before you finally move to fix his hat hair, a small giggle leaving you as you fix it. "Your hair has a mind of its own, doesn't it?" You offer, both hands now moving to mess with the strands on his head. 

"Yeah, the hat hair isn't impressive. The bed head, well that's a sight to see." He snickers, his hand carefully and cautiously moving up and down your thigh now. 

"Oh yeah?" You ask, hands falling your lap, one of them on his hand. His expression is one of knowing cockiness, but also one of amusement. 

"Mhm..." The room grows quiet again before you slowly lean towards him. 

"Wouldn't mind seeing it, you know." You finally speak, and Jack raises an eyebrow. 

"Ditto, sugar. Ditto." Before you can say anything else, the hand that's not resting under your own is cupping your cheek, lips on yours, the faint taste of residual hopps coming with it. You melt into a bit, finding the surprise far more enticing than you had expected. Your hands move from your lap to his sides, slowly trailing down before landing at his belt, gripping onto the leather and pulling him closer. Jack snarls at your motion, his hand moving from your thigh to your hip as his lips slide open, introducing his tongue to the kiss. You have to pull away a minute to catch your breath, finally opening your eyes for the first time since he'd kissed you. With hesitant breaths, you shake your head softly. 

"We can't. No, Jack, I-" You're quickly removing him from between your legs, hopping off the counter carefully. "No. Ginger and Champagne both told us the consequences - and how fuckin' pissed he would be if we- I can't lose this job." You finally move to look at him, caught by surprise at your sudden change in demeanor. It'd not even occurred to you how _problematic_ the whole thing would be. They'd asked for your first of kin your first day of training, there was no room for attachments in this field. 

The room grows quiet again. The two of you averting gazes before he clears his throat. You look up to him, seeing that he's got a new toothpick in his teeth. 

"We forget it then." He offers, hands hovering over the first aid kit that still sat on the counter. 

"We forget it." You agree with a nod, before avoiding his gaze again. "Goodnight, Jack." You offer before turning, hearing a breath leave him before he speaks. 

"Night, Angel."


End file.
